A new thought checked her steps and she froze. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. “It’s settled. God bless you, anyhow!" she added, with a spontaneity which surprised Sister Angelina into uttering an individual gasp.
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